


Hubby marks

by copenhagenborn



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band), One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Childhood Friends, F/M, Hate to Love, Kid!Harry, Kid!Liam, Luke & Ashton are only mentioned, M/M, Niall isn't in it a lot, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, mentions of self harm, neither is Zouis, perrie - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-02
Updated: 2014-11-02
Packaged: 2018-02-23 14:26:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2550860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/copenhagenborn/pseuds/copenhagenborn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Harry was four the first sign of his soulmate appeared. <br/>He sat with his friend Liam in the sandbox, both competing about who could build the higher tower without the sand figure tipping over, when his forehead begun to itch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hubby marks

When Harry was four the first sign of his soulmate appeared.   
He sat with his friend Liam in the sandbox, both competing about who could build the higher tower without the sand figure tipping over, when his forehead begun to itch.

“Stop it,” he moaned at the strange feeling and started to rub the spot until it stopped, “Liam, do my forehead look silly?” he turned towards the small boy in the overalls, who had been his best friend since birth, and pulled back the wayward curls on his forehead.

“Your forehead is always silly,” the older boy giggled and put the finishing touches on his tower, which _was_ in fact a lot taller than the younger’s. But after a whined _Liam!_ he turned to his friend and looked at the small spot just below Harry’s small hand holding the unruly strands away and gasped, “You got your wifey mark!”

The youngest boy frowned. “What?”

“You know, until you meet your wife, you get all her bumps and boo-boos; just like your parents!” Liam explained eagerly and moved closer to scrutinize the small, white dent on his friend’s face. “I wish it was me,”

“that’s silly, Lee, and so is your stupid tower,” Harry said with a frown and gave the tall sand figure a hard push making it crumble to the ground.

“Hey, that’s not nice, Haz!”

  
When Harry got home he still wondered about what his friend had said.   
Surely it didn’t work like that, look at his parents, they still had all their scars without them matching up, and that time mummy broke her arm from that fall, daddy didn’t even get a scratch.

“Mummy, Liam said something funny today.” Harry called when Anne had begun dinner and crawled to one of the chairs placed around the kitchen island.

“What now Sweetie, did he say a naughty word? You know, you have to stop repeating everything you learn from the other children,” Anne lightly scolded her son. If Harry had to name the prettiest girl in the whole wide world, his mum would always come first. Her hair was effortless shiny and the way her eyes shone with love and everything good when she looked at her children made Harry think  that no girl could ever quite compare to his mum; maybe Gemma, but she was just a stupid head with good genes.

“No, Liam would never say bad words mum.” Harry quickly denied with a shake of his head. “He said that I got a wifey mark on my forehead,” he, with a bit of doubt, removed his hair for a second time that day and showed the small mark off to his smiling mother.  “He told me that she was hurting and that when I see her it will disappear again.” He rambled off in a drawling voice; his mum watching the small dent with a growing smile and proud eyes. “But that’s not true, is it? Because you still have yours and daddy has none, so Liam is lying, isn’t he?”

“No baby, he’s not.” Anne smiled apologetic and leant down to kiss the scar. “Liam’s right, if you meet the right one, all of the small white scars you get will disappear.” She moved back to the stove and put the broccoli into the boiling water; young Harry had just recently discovered a love of green vegetables and as a healthy living mother Anne always encouraged her children to eat good and proper.

“That is silly, mummy, you still have yours and you met daddy long before you had Gemma.” Harry replied stubbornly and stomped his small feet. “You’re just as dumb as Liam!” And with that the small boy, who almost never offended his mother, stormed out of the kitchen.

*

It was six years later when he came home from Liam’s because of the pain in his right arm. They had been playing with some of Liam’s older cousin’s thing he had let him have when the painful sensation started in his wrist. But since Liam now was in a year above Harry and obviously much cooler than him – it was really a miracle he had not dumbed Harry when he had started in a grade below him and kept bringing him around, even introducing him to some of his friends – he kept the pain to himself just trying to keep playing the game Liam had wanted to play.

But when his entire forearm began hurting as hell and marks that obviously came from surgery appeared on his wrist and in the crook of his elbow, he had to tell Karen with tears in his eyes that he needed to go home.

But the worst hadn’t even happened yet.   
When Karen dropped him off with a kind pat on his head and sped down the road, Harry turned towards his house and frowned at the open door. Since when did his mother forget something so simple as that?

He went into the hallway and shut the door behind him with a silent thud, “Mummy?” he called out, “Is something wrong?” with a lazy scratch to his – not so hurting anymore – arm he went into the nearly empty sitting room previously adorned by the luxurious leather sofa, the flat screen television and the exquisite paintings bought from all over the world, but now the only things filling up the room was his mum’s old university books and the small futon pushed up against the window. “Where are you, mummy? Did we get robbed?”

“Shut it Harry! Mum is hurting right now, so could you please show some respect and not say such foolish things?!” Gemma screeched, coming around the corner, the tie from her uniform hanging loosely around her throat and the otherwise neatly bun she always wore on Thursdays was now messy.

“Don’t scream at your brother, love, it’s not his fault.” Their mother called out from the master bedroom, her voice cracking at the end and was followed by a soft cry of pain. Harry was already on his feet to go rescue his mother from whatever pain she was being put through, but a firm hand on his shoulder kept him at bay.

“The last thing she needs right now is another Styles man looking at her with those judging green eyes, so just stay out here until she comes to you, yeah?” Gemma sighed irritated and finally let go of the tight grip she had on him. “She just needs some time to herself right now, and you can’t do anything to help her,”

“Can you please just tell me what happened? All you keep saying is that mum doesn’t wanna look at me right now; and it’s _weird,_ Gemma! I don’t understand anything.” The small boy cried out in frustration. He was not used to life not going the way he wanted it to. He never really was in pain, only when his wifey decided to do something silly to hurt herself, and getting yelled at by his sister was something only bad brother got; but his mother not wanting to talk to him or even see him was so hurtful that he did not know how to comprehend it causing frustration and anger curse through his veins.

“He left her, okay?! Dad fucking left mum because he found his stupid soulmate and thought he could do better than the shitty life he had right now. Dad’s not coming back Harry, and mum’s gunna be alone for the rest of her bloody life just because of those shitty soulmates,” Cursing was a bad thing, Harry knew that, and when they said a bad word they had to put a pound in the swear jar. But Gemma was doing it so effortlessly and without even flinched when the naughty words left her mouth teaching Harry one thing; nothing good came out of those stupid wifey marks.

*

In his last year of secondary school Harry already knew this would be the worst year of his life. Liam had officially been accepted to study physical education at London University and was no longer within reaching distance day and night if Harry needed him. Gemma had taken off years prior and ever since Anne started working regularly, he felt all alone in the world.

Sure he had his friends from school and the garage band he played in on the weekends - _Leave without me_ was a really popular indie rock band in the small town of Holmes Chapel and had gotten him to third base with the school’s most popular girl, Vicky Stevens, though her hands had felt weirdly dainty and almost _too_ female when they jerked him off to the bad quality recording of Harry’s pre-puberty voice – but none of them knew what was going on in his life.

None of them knew of his father leaving them to search for his ‘true love’, they were all too consumed with finding their soulmate and nursing their wounds back to health while Harry sat with a sour smile and hoped that he would not find his ‘one true love’ because who the hell had the power to decide who he should be with? Nobody but himself he thought.

So when the pains of his ‘future wife’ began to come back he decided that he didn’t need to be the only one hurting; and who was she to be causing him so much pain when he did not contribute to hers?   
Thereby he decided that for every white mark or dent he got, he would light a cigarette take maybe one or two drags before pressing the scorching tip to his hip and keeping it there until the pain go too much for him to bear. She needed to know how it felt to be hurt this way.

Nobody knew of his hate to the system but then again no one really cared about whether or not Harry found the right girl to spend the rest of his life with; so no one could tell him to stop with the self-destructing ways he was flirting with.

But when Gemma brought home this guy, _Stupid Head Silly-Fart_ – Harry was pretty sure that was what Gemma introduced him as when the blonde lad stepped into their childhood home - her eyes was full of love and adore whenever she glance at him; they gravitated towards each other and kept moving in synch; Stupid Head always keeping a hand on her lower back or Gemma twirling a piece of his blonde curls.

Gemma’s arms were suddenly clean of the marks she had gotten from Stupid Head’s weird falls and bumps caused by his clumsiness; and he did not see even a trace on his arms of the old measles scars that Gemma had gotten when she was seven.

So maybe soulmates were not _that_ bad, he thought. And maybe he did not need to punish his wifey the next time his knees hurt.

*

It was a year later when Harry had graduated and been accepted to the same school as Liam that his life made a complete U-turn.

Over the summer his mum had begun to wear a lot of long sleeved shirts, or letting her hair hang loose instead of styling it into a neat bun; so when she, one week before Harry was taking off, at him and Gemma down in the new living room couch and peeled off the cardigan to reveal her spotless arms, Harry did not quite understand the big deal. He did not know if she was fishing for a complement for her excellent ability to stay in shape at her age or if she wanted to show off the new tan.  

But apparently Gemma did.

“Oh my god, mum! Is he here? Can we meet him, _have_ we already met him? Please just tell us!” Gemma screeched with a proud grin and pulled her mother into her arms, squeezing her like her life depended on it.

“Could you women just, please, tell me what the fudge you’re on about? I’m sitting here complete clueless.” Harry whined; he wanted to be in on the hugging too; especially knowing that he soon would be gone and not seeing them for a while. He had had enough of times being kept out of private conversations about girly stuff and the newest chick flick.

Gemma rolled her eyes, “She _finally_ found her soulmate dumbass, get your head out of your arse.”

“Gemma, please keep that bad language away from my boy,” Anne scolded with a kind smile and accepted the hand Harry was offering her to pull her into his arms.

And yeah, maybe things were getting better.

 

By the time he had settled in at his dorm and had met the weird kid who was going to be his roommate for the next period of time – _“Luke Hemming is the name, but you can just address me as Luke Irwin if you feel like it; that’s gunna be my name anyway”_ – he quickly slid away from the room before some guy with blonde curls entered their room and moans like, _“Ashton! Yes, baby!”_ filled the entire dorm hall way.

Instead he went to Liam’s dorm room, the really cool ones that only sophomores had, and met Zayn. Zayn was a second year art student majoring in sketches and paintings, and had already met the love of his life, _\- “Perrie Edwards, but I’m planning on changing that when I graduate, ahah!”._

”They’re really close; you don’t wanna be near the room when the 14th of February comes around, or a Friday or any day really. I’m glad they’re safe otherwise I would have been an uncle a couple of times,” Liam chuckled when Zayn left the room to help her study for her upcoming school play.

“Speaking of that stuff, have you figured anything out yet? Got any strange markings that your _wifey_ has giving you?” Harry countered with a smirk; they both knew that Liam would never live that one down.

“Yeah, about that mate. I have something to tell you and I’m not sure how you’re gunna take it.” Liam said with a hesitant sigh. He awkwardly moved to the edge of his bed and nervously ran a hand through his newly short hair.

“Just tell me man, I’m not gunna judge you, you know that, I love you no matter what, Lee.”

“I’m pretty sure I’m gay.” Liam blurted.

“What? Are you sure?” he replied with a frown. Harry was a pretty accepting guy, nothing really mattered as long as you were kind and polite; but never had he guessed that his best friend, the one who had been talking about his wife and his wifey marks his entire childhood, was not gunna get a wife but a hubby instead. Also homosexual soulmates were a rare thing, Harry only knew a few of them, Luke one of them apparently; doctors and scientist had explained it with soulmates being fate’s way of securing a healthy off spring, and since the right parts were not present perfectly genetic engineered babies were not an option.  

“Yeah, so you I’ve been with Danielle the entire time I was in secondary, but I started seeing this girl Sophia last year; and she was crazily beautiful, funny and witty but nothing was happening. Two of the most beautiful girls in the world and I did not even feel the tiniest bit aroused,”

“Oh,” and Harry had nothing else to say. Something weirdly familiar about Liam’s position poked around in the back of his head, but he was too afraid of voice it out loud to his friend.

“Yeah, I just. I feel like this is the year, you know? I’m gunna meet him before the summer and it’s gunna be great.” Liam informed with a sated smile and leant back to rest against the wall, “Anything new from you weirdly clumsy one? I’ve never seen a lad covered in so many scratches and scars as you,”

“Well, I got this over summer; kinda messed up my shorts look,” Harry replied softy and began peeling the left leg of his skinny jeans up until his knee to reveal the long scar he had gotten. “I’m kinda scared about what happened for it to become this bad, you know? It looks serious.”

“Shit man, I’m sorry about that. At least you won’t have trouble confirming it when you find her,” Liam tried to smile encouragingly. And yeah, maybe he was right, _he_ would probably have the same scar.

*

But neither of them met their soulmates that year.

But when Liam graduated three years later and got a job as team physician for the football team Arsenal and the lad with the most amazing bum and attitude twisted his angle, everything suddenly clicked for the brown eyed boy.

His name was Louis Tomlinson and according to Liam he was the best defender in the entirety of England, if not the world; who really cared about geographic when you could look into Louis’ blue eyes? Not Liam certainly.

So the last year of Harry’s university time was spent buried in essays and weddings; Gemma and Stupid Head had a beautiful Autumn wedding, Zerrie had made Christmas the lesser of those two events when they got married the 20th of December – Perrie having joined a band with her three best friends, and the media had just eaten it up raw – and lastly Anne Cox had officially become Anne C Twist on the 14th of February.

Meaning that Harry’s graduation in the summer was not nearly the biggest event of the year; but what was, was the day Louis invited him to play a game of kick around with the lads, some from the team but mostly lads he had met over the years.

When Harry had complained enough to Liam about the pain in his knee from the scar and had demanded that he could play goalie, he pulled on an old Manchester United kit he had gotten when he started playing amateur footie; something that Louis and the rest of his team did not really appreciate much.

“Are you taking the piss mate? What the hell are you wearing on Arsenal grass?  Do you _want_ to get your arse kicked today?” Louis had asked seriously when he saw the curly haired lad in the red colours. “You do know that we outnumber you five to one and I could take you one my own right?”

“What did I do wrong? I don’t even know what you’re taking about,” Harry stuttered out nervously backing away from the more muscular footie players and slowly leaving the course.

“O’, just forget it, mate, Tommo’s just bein’ a dick.” A rough Irish voice cackled from behind him before the mystery person put an arm around his shoulder making a weird sparkle run down his spine. “But ya should ‘ave known better than t’ wear a Man U shirt t’ a meet with Arsenal lads,”

Harry did not dare to turn around and face the person. He already felt such a strong attraction to the lad that he was not sure as to what would happen if he turned around and the guy was even the slightly attractive.

“Oh,”

“’O’’ he says? Hilarious mate! ‘ere take me shirt so they don’t want t’ kill ya the entire time.” The Irish continued, and then the temperature just went up. Afraid of being caught staring at the, what surely would be an, amazingly toned stomach, he let his gaze drop to the stranger’s blue Adidas shoes, but that was not what caught his eyes. Instead his eyes fell just at the middle of the Irishman’s shin and to just above his knee; a long scar adorned the torn flesh, the stiches seemed to familiar and the curve of the scar was something he had spent hours memorizing because it was carved into his own flesh.

“It’s you…” he whispered softly and raised his gaze to the blue eyes of his soulmate, “This entire year Louis hid you from me.”

“Wha?” the lad started but when he realized the way Harry was staring at him with nothing but love, he took his hand in his and turned it palm up until both of their left hands were faced the same way; and just like he suspected the same scar adorned the palm of their hands, Harry’s white and fading while his own was an angry red from just having been cut yesterday. “’m Niall and ’m pretty sure ’m fallin’ in love with ya,”

“Nice to meet you Niall, I’m Harry and I’m gunna kiss you now, okay?” and he did.

He leant forward and softly caught Niall’s lips with his own, the feeling of his lips against them was everything he ever wanted and everything he did not dare to hope for. The feeling only got more intense when Niall decided to gently lick at Harry’s lip and give them a soft bite until he opened his mouth and let Niall have all he wanted.

“Okay! Stop with the making out, one of you are already half naked and I don’t need Niall to get a fine for public indecency; so save it for later, yeah?” Louis yelled from the other side of the field forcing the two lads to pull away from each other.

“Yeah, totally.” Harry confirmed and took a hold of Niall’s hand to intertwine them and pulled him towards their friends. “We have the rest of our lives for that,”

And maybe Harry was already wandering what would sound better, Niall H Styles or Harry S Horan, but as long as Niall stayed by his side he couldn’t care less; just as long as one of them became reality.   

**Author's Note:**

> so, that was that and now it's about half past two and i really should be sleeping. anyone up for a part two? yeah? suggestions in the comments please :-)


End file.
